


the higher that we go

by aroceu



Category: The Social Network (2010), Why Stop Now (2012)
Genre: Crossover, Doppelganger, Fix-It, Harvard Era, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Same-Actor Crossover, Self-cest, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-01
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-17 16:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5877304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroceu/pseuds/aroceu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eduardo isn’t sure if it’s healthy that he compares all these little things Eli does to Mark, but he finds that he doesn’t really prefer one to the other—it’s just that they look so much alike that looking for similarities and differences is almost inevitable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the higher that we go

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe this except I CAN. Jesse's and Andrew's filmographies make me want to write so many same-actor crossover fics. Though this was written back in November, but shhhh P:
> 
> I took some liberties with this, mostly that Eliot houses freshmen (it doesn't, but for the purposes of this fic it does), and Kirkland House's size, which... I honestly don't know anything about. There are probably more inaccuracies about things I don't know in this fic, but let's make it easy for the both of us and just go with it -3- Oh yeah, also the timeline (in relation to TSN) is also incredibly... yeah, pretend everything is accurate for the sake of two Jesses and one Andrew.
> 
> Anyway I'm weirdly fond of this fic. And the three of them. Title from The Score's "Oh My Love," which Cathy introduced me to ♥

Mark is walking across the quad.  
  
Except that doesn’t make sense, because Mark is also sitting next to Eduardo, here on this park bench. He’s typing away at his laptop, which for the moment is more or less an extension of Mark’s body, because he’s working on a program that apparently doesn’t allow him to blink or take his hands off his keyboard for more than five minutes. Eduardo had told him that he’d been doing nothing but staring at his computer all week and that he should come outside and get some fresh air. So Mark had relented, under the condition that he was allowed to bring his laptop with him.  
  
Now it feels like not much has changed, but that’s not what Eduardo’s concerned about. Because a Mark doppelganger is walking on the other side of the yard, and Eduardo is staring. He can hear the frantic keyboard typing next to him and glances to make sure that Mark’s still there—and yep, he is. And he looks exactly like his doppelganger. Maybe Mark is a doppelgänger of _this_  guy.  
  
“Mark,” Eduardo says, though he knows his effort his futile.  
  
“Yeah,” Mark says absently.  
  
“You gotta see this.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Mark,” Eduardo says again, but Mark hasn’t removed his gaze, is still staring unblinking at his computer screen. His fingers type and backspace. Eduardo has always had an obsession with Mark’s fingers—since the first time he’d gone back to Mark’s dorm and watched him whip out his laptop and type faster than Eduardo had ever seen, he hadn’t been able to look away.  
  
Mark feels the same way about his laptop screen. “Yeah,” he says, again.  
  
“I just said, you gotta see this.” Eduardo prods him for extra effect.  
  
Finally, Mark tears his gaze away. “What?” he snaps, annoyed.  
  
Eduardo points. The lookalike is scurrying around groups of students, looking lost and nervous. He’s probably a freshman. Eduardo pities him, but only in a way that he’d been there once, too. The guy’ll probably be fine next semester.  
  
Mark stares at the guy for a minute, then turns back to Eduardo. “So?” he says.  
  
“So,” Eduardo echoes. “Don’t you think he looks like someone?”  
  
Mark blinks at Eduardo. “Yeah, sure, okay,” he says. “You think he looks like me.”  
  
“I don’t _think_ , just—” Eduardo gestures to him vigilantly again, but quickly draws his hand down in case the guy happens to glance in their direction and see him wave his limbs about. “He looks exactly like you. Like he could be your twin or something.”  
  
Mark shrugs. His eyes flicker to the guy again. “He looks like a freshman.”  
  
“Younger brother, then.”  
  
“My parents already have my sisters, Wardo,” says Mark. He turns back to his laptop.  
  
Eduardo sighs. Just because Mark isn’t intrigued doesn’t mean Eduardo isn’t allowed to be. He stands up, glancing back once to see if Mark has noticed—never mind, he’s lost Mark to code again. He can wire in in half a second. Eduardo can’t help himself from smiling, before turning around and walking over to the doppelgänger.  
  
“Hey,” he says, as he approaches.  
  
The doppelganger spins around, eyes widening when he sees Eduardo. “Hey,” he says, nervously.  
  
“I’m Eduardo.” Eduardo puts on his biggest and most charming smile, and stretches out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”  
  
“Uh.” The guy’s gaze darts around. He’s like a tiny nervous animal. He takes Eduardo’s hand and shakes it, twice and quickly. His fingers are soft and nimble. “Eli. Uh, this isn’t a prank or something, is it?”  
  
“What? Oh no, don’t worry,” Eduardo says, chuckling a little. “I’m only part of the Harvard Investor’s Club and Alpha Epsilon Pi. They don’t really do that sort of thing.”  
  
“Oh,” says Mark’s-lookalike-Eli. He shifts on his feet. “Right.”  
  
“So,” says Eduardo. He might as well cut to the chase. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet my friend Mark.”  
  
“What?” Eli glances around again. “Why?”  
  
“It’s fine, he’ll be—it’s fine,” Eduardo says quickly. He’s getting endeared by how jumpy this guy is, even though he barely knows him—probably because he looks like Mark, in all honesty. But he’s got a different sort of air about him, more open and vulnerable. Where Mark is stone-faced and harsh and cutting, this guy just seems like he wants to survive college and make some good friends and not get roughed around too much.  
  
Eduardo likes it.  
  
“C’mon, let me introduce you,” Eduardo says with a small jerk of his head.  
  
The clone—Eli, he should start thinking about him as Eli, hesitates for a second, but follows Eduardo. Eduardo leads them to the park bench, where Mark is still typing at his laptop, blind to everything else.  
  
“Mark,” says Eduardo. He looks over his shoulder to Eli, but—Eli’s stopped in his tracks, staring at Mark. Eduardo’s lips twitch and he pokes Mark on the arm. “Mark,” he says again.  
  
Mark huffs and glares at him. “What is it this time, Wardo?”  
  
But then he spots Eli, hovering behind Eduardo.  
  
“Hi,” says Eli nervously.  
  
Mark stares at him. “Hi,” he says back.  
  
He returns to glaring at Eduardo, but Eduardo’s straightening up. “Eli, this is Mark,” he says to Eli, tamping down his grin.  
  
“Hi,” Eli says again, moving over so he can face Mark properly. He adjusts his messenger bag over his shoulder. Eduardo actually grins and has to hide it, because Mark has a sort of personal vendetta against messenger bags.  
  
“I’m Eli,” Eli says.  
  
“I heard,” says Mark.  
  
“You, uh,” says Eli. He glances at Eduardo, but Eduardo just nods to encourage him along. “I kinda—you—we—”  
  
“We look like each other, I get it,” Mark interrupts. He has his hand on the lid of his laptop and—yes! Eduardo does an internal fist pump when Mark begins to pushes it down.  
  
“What’s your last name?” Mark asks.  
  
“Bloom,” Eli answers immediately. “Uh, but that’s my mom’s last name, ‘cause my dad was a junkie, and he left when I was like, two—”  
  
“Well we can’t share the same father, mine’s a dentist,” Mark mutters. “He’d hate weed or coke or whatever it is your dad does.”  
  
Eli shrugs. “I don’t—uh, I don’t know what he does.” He smiles a little. “I mean, both of my parents are—were junkies, so I imagine they’d—”  
  
“Jesus.” Mark snorts. “I couldn’t have had a more fucked up guy to be my doppelganger.”  
  
Eli flinches visibly.  
  
Eduardo narrows his eyes and steps forward. “Mark,” he says warningly.  
  
“No, no, it’s okay,” Eli says hurriedly. “I’m—he’s right, you know, I do have a pretty fucked up family, I mean, _I’m_  pretty fucked up—”  
  
“No, you’re not,” Eduardo says, before turning to Mark again.  
  
“Mark,” he says patiently. “Be nice.”  
  
“Be nice,” Mark scoffs. “What do you want me to be nice to him for, Wardo? He looks like me, we’re not related, that’s—” He gestures to Eli, who is obviously fidgeting at them talking about him right in front of him. “What did you want me to meet him for?”  
  
“I thought you two might get along.” Eduardo draws back. Mark is squinting at him, trying to figure him out. Despite the situation it makes Eduardo feel proud of himself for making Mark look at him like this—Mark is always fast and smart, so being able to trip him up, to surprise him—it doesn’t happen often, but these are the moments that Eduardo relishes in the most.  
  
Eli takes that moment to say, “What is—What’re you working on?” He gestures to Mark’s laptop.  
  
Mark’s gaze shoots to him. “You program?”  
  
“No, I-I,” Eli stutters. “I noticed you were—you were typing really fast, and when he,” he points to Eduardo, and swallows when he sees Mark narrow his eyes, “when he was trying to get your attention you seemed really into it like you were busy with something and—”  
  
He breaks off, like he thinks Mark is going to bite his head off at any second.  
  
Mark fixes him with a cursory gaze. Then he says, “I was working on a program called CourseMatch. It lets you see your friends’ schedules for the next semester.”  
  
“Oh, that’s,” Eli swallows again. “That’s cool.”  
  
“You’re a freshman, right?” Eduardo asks, when it seems that Mark has exhausted his questions for Eli for now.  
  
Eli nods. “Um, yeah.”  
  
“What house?”  
  
“Eliot.” Eli gestures somewhere behind them.  
  
Eduardo lights up. “Cool, me too,” he says, smiling at him. He tries to make it come off assuring, because Mark has only insulted him once, maybe twice, and honestly as far as introductions this long go, it’s a record.  
  
Eli tries to smile too, but it comes off more like he has a twitching problem with his mouth. “We could totally, like, study together sometime,” he says, breathily and sarcastically. “Like, even though you’re probably like a senior and all, and we probably don’t have any classes together, and—”  
  
“Yeah,” Eduardo says, pushing his smile bigger. “We could.”  
  
Eli blinks at him for a second. His smile turns real.  
  
“Uh,” Mark says, very suddenly. When Eduardo looks at him again, Mark’s focus on Eli has changed—like he’s an enigma, but not because he looks like Mark. “Where are you going?” he asks Eli.  
  
“Oh, back to my dorm,” says Eli, and he begins shuffling away from them. “That’s—I should probably get going, huh.”  
  
Mark stares at him a little more. Eli twitches, and then he’s walking away, faster than before.  
  
Eduardo watches him go, before turning to Mark. “You didn’t have to dismiss him like that,” he says.  
  
Mark shrugs. He opens his laptop again. “He seemed like he was done talking to us,” he says shortly.  
  
Eduardo rolls his eyes and glances over his shoulder. Eli has disappeared, probably into Eliot. Eduardo wonders if he asks around if he could find him.  
  
It takes him a full week, though, to ask around about a twitchy nervous freshman with an impressive jewfro. Not because nobody knows who he is—in fact it seems like everyone in Eliot knows who he is, he apparently crashes a lot of the parties and gets ridiculously drunk and starts singing nonsense—but no one knows where he lives. Eduardo is impressed with the guy’s ability to make a reputation without anyone really knowing his name or his location.  
  
Eventually he locates a handful of freshman who know both his name and his room number, and then Eduardo is traipsing down the stairs to 207. Before he knocks he hears the faint sound of music—classical music, fast and fluid like a professional.  
  
He knocks. The music stops, there’s some stumbling, and a second later the door swings open.  
  
Eli stands there, looking frazzled. His eyes widen when he sees Eduardo.  
  
“Hi,” Eduardo says, smiling. “Eli? I—We met the other day, in the quad.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Eli says quickly, looking flustered. “And you’re Eduardo.”  
  
God, his voice even kind of sounds like Mark’s. If Mark actually intoned and was more nervous than biting. It’s weird to hear his full name in Mark’s voice like that, except it’s not Mark’s voice, really, and it sounds just as nice.  
  
“I am.” Eduardo bows his head slightly.  
  
“So, uh,” says Eli, glancing around the hallway. “Is there any—What can I do for you?”  
  
“Oh yeah,” says Eduardo. He quirks his lips. “I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight?”  
  
Eli looks surprised. “Sure, sure,” he replies, nodding. His hand is still on the doorknob of his door, either like he wants Eduardo to go away as quickly as possible or he’s afraid Eduardo will leave and is preparing himself for it. “Uh, like, studying?” he adds.  
  
“Eh,” says Eduardo. “More like a party. In Kirkland?” he adds, because some kids who go to house parties don’t bother putting on shoes when the party’s in their own house. Eduardo had done that once, and then stepped in some puddle on the floor that definitely wasn’t alcohol. He’d never made that mistake again.  
  
“Oh.” Eli nods rapidly. “Okay. Cool. Uh.” He pushes his door open by an inch. “It’s the afternoon, so like, I guess, if you wanna hang before we go, or pregame or something.”  
  
“Nah, it’s fine,” says Eduardo. He walks in graciously, as Eli closes the door and then begins to hurry around his room. It’s mostly clean, save for a couple of empty beer bottles on the shelf and one on the nightstand by his bed. Squeezed between his desk and shelf is an electric keyboard, with a tiny bench in front of it. It already has music on it—when Eduardo leans in, he reads, _Child’s Corner by Debussy_  on it. The desk has sheet music too, along with standard textbooks and a very old laptop.  
  
“How’d you get a single in Eliot as a freshman?” Eduardo asks, glancing around.  
  
Eli gestures to his bed, so Eduardo sits there. “Scholarship,” he answers, returning to his desk.  
  
“Music scholarship?”  
  
“How’d you guess?” Eli’s tone is dry, but not in the flat way that Mark’s is so often. He’s smiling a little when Eduardo looks at him. Eduardo feels his chest flip.  
  
“Something about the keyboard,” Eduardo answers, and Eli laughs.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, it’s pretty—” Eli inhales through his teeth. “It’s here,” he mutters, flicking his laptop on.  
  
“So I’m guessing you’re a music studies major,” Eduardo asks, looking around the room again. “Is that like, all you do?”  
  
“Pretty much,” Eli says from his desk.  
  
The keyboard looks kind of dirty and wobbly, like it’s either old or had been bought secondhand. One of its hinges appears to be taped on rather than actually screwed together. Eduardo wonders how long Eli’s had it.  
  
“Mind playing something for me?” he asks. When Eli swivels around, he adds hurriedly, “I mean, you don’t have to, but if you’re a performer, and if you wouldn’t mind—”  
  
“Yeah, uh,” Eli almost trips over his feet as he gets up out of his chair. “Yeah, sure, I can—the piece I’m working on right now is kinda long, but I can play you a part of it, if you want?”  
  
“Hit me.” Eduardo grins at him.  
  
Eli sits himself down at the bench. He inhales deeply, and Eduardo is scarily reminded of Mark’s intensity before he starts a new project. Eli flicks his keyboard on, and begins to play.  
  
Eduardo’s listened to a lot of music in his life—his parents had made him listen to Mozart and the like when he was younger, convinced that it would make him a smarter kid. As he grew up he fell to the consumerist nature of pop music, but his parents took him to orchestras sometimes, and he could appreciate good classical music.  
  
Eli plays like he’s in the orchestra: his stature and performance are overwhelmingly confident, and he sways over his keyboard like he’s the only person in the room, but in the way that piano players do when they’re playing in front of tens of thousands of people. And the song he’s actually playing is quick, and flows, liquid and soft and loud and in that way when you realize for the first time that music isn’t just _sound_ , it’s art, it’s words and telling a story and painting a picture and a world that colors and letters could never manage to achieve.  
  
When he’s done, Eduardo doesn’t realize it until Eli’s been staring at him for almost a minute, waiting for his response. Eduardo jerks out of his reverie and claps good-naturedly, grinning.  
  
“That was incredible,” he says to Eli honestly.  
  
Eli ducks his head down. “Thanks,” he says, smiling shyly. “I, uh. I’ve been practicing it for a few weeks now.”  
  
“It sounds like you’ve been practicing it for your whole _life_ ,” says Eduardo.  
  
Eli shrugs. “I,” he says, but doesn’t seem to know what else to say. “Yeah.”  
  
Eduardo stares at him with wonder. He can see all the pieces where Eli and Mark join—Mark isn’t twitchy, but he is a perfectionist in a way that could be described almost anything as twitchy, and Eli is the opposite and the same. And this incredible thing with the piano, with the keyboard—Eduardo isn’t really sure he’s actually heard decent piano music, before now.  
  
“How long have you been playing?” he asks.  
  
“Um, since I was,” Eli scrunches his nose a bit, “maybe five? Or four, actually, I can’t remember. Or six. Yeah, because Marty was still living with us then… He took my keyboard when he left us,” he adds, at Eduardo’s bemused expression. “I had to stay after school and use my middle school’s grand piano.”  
  
“Wow,” says Eduardo, because that’s the only thing he can say about that.  
  
Eli clears his throat. “So, uh,” he says, looking at Eduardo carefully. “Your friend—Mark. Does he play piano?”  
  
“Oh, no,” says Eduardo. He smirks at the thought. “He does a lot of things, fencing, coding,” he nods pointedly at Eli, “but nah, not a musical bone in his body.”  
  
“Huh,” says Eli. “And is he always…?”  
  
“An asshole?”  
  
Eli looks surprised but Eduardo grins at him. “He knows it,” he says. “And yeah.”  
  
“Huh,” Eli says, again.  
  
And because the topic’s brought up, and because Eli hasn’t said anything like, wow, that Mark, what an asshole, I never want to see him again, Eduardo takes his chance. “That’s actually where we’re having our party,” he says to Eli. “Tonight. Mark lives in Kirkland.”  
  
“Oh.” Eli nods carefully. “Okay.”  
  
He fidgets on his bench. His face is so open—it’s astounding, when the face looks like Mark’s, and Eduardo can read every emotion. Eli looks like he wants to be a good host and keep Eduardo entertained, but he also looks like he wants to play more (which he’d probably been doing before Eduardo had come in), and he also looks like he wants to go back to his desk, like he should be doing homework even though he’d rather be playing piano.  
  
Eduardo sits back on Eli’s bed and says, “You can continue playing, if you want. Or do whatever.” He pulls his phone out. “Or I can leave, if you want me to.”  
  
“No—no, it’s fine.”  
  
Eli twitches out of his seat, a full body motion. He’s heading towards his mini fridge, and pulls out a bottle. “Want a beer?” he asks, offering one to Eduardo.  
  
Eduardo shakes his head, still smiling.  
  
He plays Snake on his phone while Eli plays piano for a bit, parts that Eduardo had just heard, new parts that are played deftly and flawlessly as far as Eduardo can tell. Eli plays them more though like he’d made a mistake, but to Eduardo’s untrained ear it sounds the same and not in a repetitive way. He begins to hum along after a while as Eli plays some parts over and over again; at one point he’s still humming when Eli breaks off, and Eduardo looks up to see Eli in the middle of making a mark on his music, but looking at him.  
  
Eli blushes when Eduardo catches his eye. “Sorry, if this is boring for you,” he says.  
  
“No, don’t worry,” Eduardo assures. “It’s not. You sound really good.”  
  
“Thanks.” Eli smiles, and then goes back to his music.  
  
Outside, the sky gets darker and the sun begins to set. Eventually the time on Eduardo’s phone says that it’s six thirty, and Eli puts his pencil down and says, “It’s—Should we get dinner?"  
  
Eduardo lifts his head up. Eli backtracks suddenly and says, “I mean, do you want to get dinner? Before the party, I mean. I’m kinda hungry.”  
  
_Oh man, he’s better than Mark_ , Eduardo thinks, even though that’s not true, because Mark is—well, he’s Mark, he can’t really be paralleled. “I think the guys are ordering pizza,” he says. “And don’t worry, we’re paying for it.”  
  
“I.” Eli bites his lip. “Are you sure?”  
  
“Yeah, man.” Eduardo slides off Eli’s bed. Before he knows it, his hand is on Eli’s back, between his shoulderblades, like Eduardo often does to Mark. But Eli isn’t flinching away from him. “Don’t worry about it,” Eduardo says.  
  
Eli smiles at him. “Alright,” he says, and stands up. “We can—I’m gonna finish my beer."  
  
“You do that,” says Eduardo.  
  
When Eli’s done with his beer, Eduardo waits patiently as he pulls his jacket on and then they’re trekking to Kirkland next door. The silences that have fallen between them are also like the ones Eduardo has with Mark. Eduardo isn’t sure if it’s healthy that he compares all these little things Eli does to Mark, but he finds that he doesn’t really prefer one to the other—it’s just that they look so much alike that looking for similarities and differences is almost inevitable.  
  
Eduardo likes the way Eli shoots him a worried look as they enter Kirkland, but it turns into a smile when Eduardo sends one back. He likes the way Eli fumbles with the hems of his jacket sleeves because he hadn’t managed to get them on all the way and the shoulder’s kind of lopsided in the back. He likes the way Eli chews on his lip, because apparently he has much of an oral fixation as Mark does, as they stand in front of Mark’s suite, the whiteboard reading _PARTAAAY TONIGHT!!_ in Dustin’s weirdly legible handwriting (it’s big and girly.)  
  
Eduardo asks him, “You ready?” and Eli kind of shudders but nods and says, “Yeah.” Eduardo opens the door.  
  
Mark doesn’t usually like hosting house parties and Eduardo’s managed to drag him to maybe two in the past year that they’ve known each other. But it’s the weekend and only a couple of weeks in and Eduardo had been there when Dustin had said, “If you wanna meet people, you gotta _meet people_ ,” and Chris had been all, “We gotta break in the new suite somehow,” and Mark had sighed and said, “Fine, but no one’s allowed near my room.” Eduardo and Dustin and Chris had cheered, and Mark had rolled his eyes and pretended that he wasn’t smiling.  
  
Eduardo spots Mark almost immediately, sitting on the couch in front of the mantelpiece and looking bored as bodies swarm around them. There’s not too many people, though he supposes fitting any more than fifty in a suite would probably be impossible—maybe thirty, tops, but that’s practically everyone in the building.  
  
Eduardo goes over to him. “Hey,” he greets.  
  
Mark nods. “Hey,” he says, nonchalantly. There’s a beer bottle in his hand but it looks barely drunken out of. “You’re usually not late.”  
  
“You’re usually not away from your laptop.” Eduardo’s lips twitch. “How’s it going?”  
  
Mark watches as some girl walks straight at the coffee table and trips right over it. Eduardo quickly moves out of her way so she can pick herself up.  
  
“Boring,” Mark answers.  
  
Eduardo chuckles and reaches for Mark’s bottle. Mark hands it to him, and Eduardo takes a drink.  
  
“Hey, I brought,” he says, and turns behind him.  
  
But Eli’s gone. He’s not behind Eduardo anymore, and Eduardo panics, because—he’d just brought a freshman into a Kirkland house party, and—god, Eli’s so twitchy, he can’t survive here by himself. Or maybe worse, he left, because he thought the party was lame, or he wanted to ditch Eduardo immediately. Eduardo spins around on the coffee table, trying to peer through the crowd of bodies.  
  
Then Mark says, “My doppelganger?” and points to where drinks are being handed out, at Dustin’s desk.  
  
Eli is standing there, reaching over everyone and trying to grab for a solo cup. Eduardo stands up immediately, rushing over to him.  
  
Eli manages to get his hands on a drink and downs it, wiping his mouth sloppily. “Hey,” Eduardo starts, approaching him.  
  
Dustin appears at his elbow. “Wardo!” he says enthusiastically, slapping Eduardo on the back. “You’re here! And—” He turns to Eli.  
  
“Mark? Are you drunk already?” He peers into Eli’s cup and grins. “Dude, you finished that whole thing just now?”  
  
“I.” Eli’s smile is stretched wide, probably amused by this whole thing. Honestly, Eduardo is too. “Yeah,” Eli says.  
  
“Look at that,” Dustin says, poking Eli’s cheek. “ _Dimples_. I always knew you had a low tolerance.”  
  
“Dustin,” says Eduardo, rolling his eyes and batting Dustin’s hand down. He’s right, though; Eli has dimples like Mark.  
  
“You look kinda different, though,” says Dustin. He tilts his head to the side and puts his hand to his chin. “Did you get a haircut recently? And I didn’t know you owned shirts like these,” he tugs at the collar of Eli’s button-up, “that aren’t Wardo’s.”  
  
“ _Dustin_ ,” says Eduardo. He glances at Eli, but something on Eli’s face seems to fall. He quickly covers it up by reaching over people again and managing to get his hands on another drink.  
  
“Dude,” says Dustin, grinning at Eli chugging down another cup. “I like this new Mark. This is gonna be a fun night.”  
  
“It’s not Mark,” Eduardo says quickly, pulling him aside. “He, I mean, that’s.” He glances to Eli, who’s watching them, shifting from foot to foot. “He _looks_  like Mark, but Mark’s actually out in the living room.”  
  
“What.” Dustin’s eyes are big. “No way. You’re kidding?”  
  
Eduardo nods to the living room.  
  
Dustin squeezes past a bunch of people to look in. A few seconds later he’s coming back, eyes big as saucers.  
  
Eli goes over to Eduardo. “You told him?” he asks. He sounds kind of disappointed.  
  
“He’s Mark’s roommate,” Eduardo says pointedly. He grins, jabbing Eli’s cheek. “Don’t tell me you liked that attention.”  
  
“You know us performers.” Eli shrugs and chugs down the rest of his drink.  
  
“I can’t believe this,” says Dustin. He puts his hands on Eli’s shoulders and angles him so they’re face to face. He puts his hands on Eli’s cheeks. “You’re like a Mark 2.0.”  
  
“My name’s Eli,” says Eli. He finishes his drink.  
  
Dustin perks up. “And I’m Dustin! Welcome to _l’abode du amor._ ”  
  
Eli furrows his eyebrows. “You just used the Spanish word for _love_ , French grammar, and the word _abode_  in a single phrase,” he says.  
  
“And you’re smarter than Mark.” Dustin grins. “Don’t tell him I said that,” he says to both Eduardo and Eli, before scurrying off, presumably to entertain other guests.  
  
Eduardo watches him fondly as Eli blinks at the spot where Dustin had just been.  
  
“He’s,” Eli says.  
  
Eduardo says, “Yeah. He’s Dustin.”  
  
Eli seems to keep wanting to get drinks, which honestly Eduardo is impressed by. Then a game of beer pong starts at the coffee table and Eli rushes over to join them—“I’m so good, man, you gotta see,” he’d said to Eduardo—so Eduardo goes to the side and tries to find Mark again.  
  
He finds Mark this time in his room, after knocking and then calling, “It’s me,” and not waiting for an answer, because the sitting room and the music is too damn loud. Mark is sitting at his desk, tapping away at his computer.  
  
“Hi,” Mark says without looking up.  
  
Eduardo leans against his desk. “Bored already?” he asks.  
  
Mark shrugs.  
  
“I asked Erica to come over,” he says, after a moment.  
  
Eduardo starts. Mark is weirdly touchy about Erica—Eduardo hasn’t actually met her, though he’s sure that through all of Mark’s complaints about her constantly interrupting him and penchant for foreplay that he still hasn’t had sex with her, she’s a decent girl. Besides, Mark probably interrupts her all the time and honestly Eduardo isn’t particularly complaining that they haven’t slept together yet.  
  
“Yeah?” Eduardo asks. “How was it?”  
  
Mark sighs and takes his eyes off his computer. “She was mad,” he says, “because I didn’t tell her that I was having a party, and that I hadn’t thought to invite her.”  
  
“Okay,” says Eduardo carefully.  
  
Mark types a few more lines. “We broke up,” he says.  
  
“Oh.” Eduardo quickly goes over, puts his hand on Mark’s back. “Are you—Are you okay? What happened?”  
  
“She.”  
  
Mark huffs and spins around in his chair. Eduardo backs up to give him some room.  
  
“She called me an asshole, because I was working on CourseMatch, and I told her to give me five minutes, and she said that I shouldn’t call her over and then ask her to give me five minutes.”  
  
“She said all that?” Eduardo asks. He wishes he’d noticed sooner. Then he could actually meet her. Though he’s not sure if he would trade that from watching Eli get more giggly and drunk during that time.  
  
Mark shrugs. “More or less. Or that I was ignoring her, or something.” He turns back to his computer. “Whatever. I can just get laid tonight or something, it’s not a big deal.”  
  
“You say that like it’s just that easy,” says Eduardo.  
  
Mark shrugs again. “Easier than dating a B-cup wearing bitch—”  
  
“Mark,” Eduardo says sharply.  
  
Mark goes silent.  
  
Eduardo sighs and sits back on Mark’s bed. He watches Mark type at his computer, and this—it’s so frustrating, sometimes, because he’s _Mark_ , but watching him drown himself in code is hypnotizing. It’s not as indulgent for him as it is listening to Eli play music, but Eduardo knows that Mark is creating magic here, right in front of him; he’s changing the world. He’s going to change the world. Eduardo knows it.  
  
Eduardo stands up. He tries to read what’s on Mark’s computer, but code is honestly gibberish to him so he starts toward the door. “I’ll let you know how the party is,” he says, turning the handle.  
  
Mark lets out a noncommittal noise.  
  
Out in the living room, the whole crowd is a riot. Eduardo pushes his way to the front to see Eli, bouncing his ping pong ball eagerly on the table. “Who wants to challenge me next?” he shouts over the din. “Any takers?”  
  
His hand is working faster with the strength of a ridiculously drunk man, so the ball bounces to the ground, rolling to Eduardo’s feet. Eduardo picks it up.  
  
“Having fun?” he says, feeling his shoulders relax.  
  
Eli beams at him. “Yeah!” he says. “Man, oh my god, everyone thinks I’m _Mark_ , they keep looking at me bug-eyed, it’s hilarious.”  
  
“It is,” Eduardo agrees, because no one around them is looking at them weirdly that they’re talking, like Eli and Eduardo is as natural as Mark and Eduardo.  
  
“I should tell them,” Eli says, going bright-eyed. “Or! I could tell them that I’m an alien and Mark got body snatched. That would be hilarious.”  
  
“Yeah, no—no, that’s fine,” says Eduardo, though he’s laughing a little. “How’s the—You won beer pong?”  
  
Eli nods, grinning bright.  
  
Chris appears suddenly, pushing at Eli’s shoulder and saying, “No, he didn’t, I don’t know how but Mark’s hand-eye coordination is _not_  that good, he totally cheated—”  
  
Eli is guffawing into his hands. Eduardo snickers as Chris just _stares_ , eyes huge.  
  
“That’s not Mark,” he says, after a second. “It’s—Eli, meet Chris, Mark’s other roommate.”  
  
“Hi,” Eli says brightly. “I’m Eli.”  
  
“You’re.” Chris glances at Eduardo, then back at Eli. “This isn’t a joke, right?”  
  
Eduardo shakes his head. “Not a joke,” he says. “Mark’s not that good of an actor. And he’s in his room.” He nods to Mark’s closed door, in the far corner of the room.  
  
“That,” Chris looks at the door, then back at Eli. “This is weird,” he says, mostly to himself.  
  
“You’re telling me,” says Eli. “Hey, you guys got any Smirnoff?”  
  
Chris says, “Yeah,” and leads him away, shaking his head. Eli shoots a grin at Eduardo before pushing his way through the crowd to follow him. Eduardo smiles back, following them.  
  
The night devolves into Eduardo getting drunk with everyone else in the room, keeping an eye on Eli who keeps grinning at the strange looks he gets from everyone. Not many people approach him, though, since they think he’s Mark, and Mark is, well. But Dustin and Chris (and Eduardo) seem to have a fun time with him, and at one point Dustin points out the thing about their voices and Chris makes him say things like “I love humans” and “computers are terrible” just to hear the words come from a voice that sounds like Mark’s. The lilt is off and not quite the same, but Eduardo doesn’t point that out.  
  
Most people leave eventually, mostly because none of them like waking up to strangers sprawled all over their dorm in the morning, and Chris almost leaves with a guy until he hears that someone had puked on his bed at some point. He’s cursing and drunkenly doing his laundry as Eduardo throws himself on the couch and spreads himself all over it.  
  
Eli is still here, eagle-spread on the floor. Eduardo watches him and chuckles; Eli is staring nonsensically at the ceiling, and has a bottle in his hands.  
  
“I should,” he hiccups, “I should go.”  
  
Eduardo kicks his ankle chidingly. Dustin’s already passed out on his bed, and Chris is in the bathroom, trying to rinse the puke stains out. Mark’s door is still closed.  
  
“You can stay,” he says to Eli. “I’m sure they won’t mind.”  
  
“We don’t mind,” says Chris, passing through. “Anyone who looks like Mark is a friend of ours. Sort of.”  
  
Eli laughs from on the floor. “That’s funny,” he says. “Except he’s like, older, and probably smarter.”  
  
Eduardo snorts. “He’s smarter than most people,” he says. “Don’t worry too much about it.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m.” Eli takes a deep breath. “I was just saying.”  
  
The floor is probably dirty; it looks doubtlessly sticky, beer stains and other stains all over the place. Eli has a shoe missing and Eduardo wonders if he’s noticed; he kind of doubts it. Eduardo takes a sip of his water and shifts a little more into the corner of the couch.  
  
“Come up here,” he says, patting the cushion next to him.  
  
Eli glances at him. “What?”  
  
“Sit here,” says Eduardo, and gestures to the floor. “I doubt that’s very clean, you’re not gonna want to spend the night down there.”  
  
Eli stares at him, but then he stands up. Almost too fast, because he wobbles on his feet and nearly falls forward when he’s upright.  
  
“Careful.” Eduardo chuckles and grips his wrist. Eli’s skin is warm and he holds onto Eduardo too, steadying himself. “Don’t rush yourself.”  
  
“Yeah, um.” Eli meets his eyes. Even though he’s more expressive than Mark, his expression is hard to read. “Thanks.”  
  
He sits next to Eduardo, knees knocking into his. “I feel like playing,” he says. “Do you guys have a keyboard around here?”  
  
Chris says, from his room’s entryway, “If it’s not attached to a computer in some way, we don’t. Sorry.”  
  
Eli lifts a hand. “It’s okay,” he mutters. He stares at the drink in his hand.  
  
Eduardo nudges his knee again, this time on purpose. “Hey,” he says. “Tell me about your keyboard. When’d you get it?”  
  
Eli chuckles. He rolls his bottle back and forth. “Before college,” he replies, playing with his drink. “I had some money saved up from work—don’t stock in retail, it’s boring as shit,” he adds pointedly to Eduardo, “—and I figured, I needed some way to practice, I passed my audition, might as well treat myself, right? So.” He grins. “I got her. She sucks, but she’s better than nothing.”  
  
“Better than nothing,” Eduardo agrees.  
  
“And like, I named her Chloe, after my girlfriend, right?” Eli says thoughtfully. “Well, my ex-girlfriend, because she dumped me, like, right before I came here. She said that she didn’t think long distance relationships would work out.” He rolls his eyes. “But yeah, now I’m trying to think of a better name for her. Or him. It could be a him.”  
  
“Mark doesn’t name his computers,” Eduardo says.  
  
He immediately curses himself, because why would Eli care? Eli isn’t Mark; Eli doesn’t have the same fixation on Mark that Eduardo does; it won’t matter to Eli that Mark doesn’t fall into the same mold that he does.  
  
But Eli looks at Eduardo curiously. “He doesn’t?” he asks.  
  
Eduardo shrugs. “Yeah, he says—he thinks that it’s stupid, because technology isn’t sentient, and whatever happens to it his under his control, he can make it and fix it.”  
  
His cheeks feel warm. Mark’s voice is as loud in his head as it had been when he’d told Eduardo that.  
  
Eli says, “Huh,” and sits for a thoughtful moment. Then, “How long have you known Mark? Are you guys like,” he swallows, “childhood friends, or something?”  
  
Eduardo laughs. “Nah, that would be.” He snickers again at the thought. “No, we met at an AEPi party last year.”  
  
“AE…”  
  
“Alpha Epsilon—the Jewish fraternity,” Eduardo clarifies, when Eli continues to look befuddled.  
  
“Oh,” says Eli. He nods. “I’m Jewish too.”  
  
Eduardo tips his cup toward him. “Cheers,” he says.  
  
They fade in and out of senseless conversations, and eventually Eduardo persuades Eli to put his drink down and consume nothing but water for ten minutes straight until Eli complains that he thinks he’s about to puke. Eduardo tells him that at least he won’t tomorrow, and they collapse on the couch again and fall asleep sometime between conversations.  
  
When Eduardo wakes up, sunlight is streaming bright through a window, right in his face. A faint headache starts between his eyes, and he rubs at them.  
  
Mark is bustling in the kitchenette, with a bowl of presumably cereal. He’s in his pajamas. Eduardo glances next to him, where Eli is sleeping like the dead. Eduardo feels himself smile.  
  
Mark passes them, but notices that Eduardo’s awake. “Wardo,” he says shortly.  
  
“Mark,” says Eduardo. “Do you have any food?”  
  
Mark pauses and stares at him long-sufferingly. After a brief moment, he walks over—he’s wearing his flip-flops so no one’s cleaned the floor yet—and hands Eduardo his bowl.  
  
Eduardo blinks and takes it. “I didn’t mean like this,” he says. The smell of cereal is tempting him.  
  
Mark rolls his eyes. “Take it, I can get another,” he says.  
  
And then, to his surprise, he nods towards Eli. “You think he’ll want one?” he asks.  
  
“I.” Eduardo is speechless.  
  
Mark says, “Wardo,” again.  
  
“I, yeah, sure,” says Eduardo.  
  
He watches as Mark goes to the kitchenette again, grabbing a bowl and the cereal on the counter. Eduardo eats from his bowl slowly, feeling the headache eventually fade away, though he kind of wants coffee. They don’t have a coffeemaker though and Mark has a vendetta against, along with messenger bags, coffee, so Eduardo doubts that he would run out and get some for Eduardo.  
  
Eli is still slumped on the other side of the couch. Mark will be huffy if he made another bowl of cereal for no reason, so Eduardo jostles him a little, on the elbow.  
  
“Eli,” he says gently. “Wake up.”  
  
“Hunh,” Eli says against the armrest.  
  
“Eli,” Eduardo says again.  
  
Mark returns, two bowls in his hands. He stares as Eduardo slowly shakes Eli awake, and Eli begins to stir, rubbing at his eyes and blinking.  
  
“Where am I,” he says sleepily, and kind of adorably, too. Both Eduardo and Mark are staring at him. Eli picks himself up, and then a little quicker when he sees that Mark is standing in front of him.  
  
“Thanks,” he says, when Mark pushes a bowl toward him.  
  
“Having a good dream?” Eduardo asks, feeling the corner of his lips tug as Eli seems to adjust back into consciousness, settling the bowl on his lap and wriggling his fingers, cracking them into sober functionality again.  
  
Eli shrugs and peers down at his cereal. “If you call having flashbacks to oxy a good dream,” he says vaguely. “Are these Cocoa Puffs?” He looks at Mark.  
  
Mark is still staring.  
  
Eli stares back, and then clears his throat. “Uh, not that there’s anything wrong with that,” he says. “I love Cocoa Puffs.”  
  
“So does Dustin,” Mark says flatly.  
  
Eli laughs, weakly. His cheeks are flushed, either from sleep or alcohol, and he starts on his breakfast.  
  
Eduardo expects Mark to leave, but instead Mark is just—standing there, on the other side of the coffee table.  
  
So Eduardo asks, “Did you sleep last night?”  
  
Mark’s gaze jerks to him. “A few hours,” he says. “Woke up around seven. It’s eleven now,” he says, when Eduardo opens his mouth.  
  
“How do you live like that?” says Eli from his cereal.  
  
Mark’s gaze snaps to him again. “Survival of the fittest,” he answers.  
  
Eduardo scoffs, setting his bowl down in his lap. “Yeah, remember that time when you passed out for twenty-four hours?”  
  
“ _Twenty-four hours_?” says Eli incredulously.  
  
“Hey,” says Mark. “That was—”  
  
Eduardo ignores him. “Yeah, and it was in the CS lab, too,” he says to Eli. “We couldn’t find him and almost called the police. Luckily his mom told us that if all else fails, just look for computers. You’ll find Mark there, too.”  
  
Mark glares. Eli giggles, but seems to be trying to hide it by ducking his head down and slurping up his cereal. Eduardo winks at Mark, who says, “Don’t do that to me, Wardo.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Eduardo says. “Have you apologized to Erica, by the way?”  
  
“Apologize?” Mark snorts. “What do I need to apologize to her for?”  
  
“Who’s Erica?” asks Eli.  
  
“Mark’s girlfriend,” says Eduardo before he can think his words through.  
  
Eli’s eyes are wide. “You have a girlfriend?” he asks Mark.  
  
“Ex-girlfriend,” Mark corrects. “And yes, I did, at one point. Girls don’t hate me _that_  much.”  
  
“They do,” Eduardo chuckles into his cereal. Mark glares at him again.  
  
But Eli is backtracking and clattering his bowl with his spoon. “I-I didn’t mean,” he stammers, looking between Mark and Eduardo. “I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to imply—”  
  
Mark sighs. “It’s okay,” he says to Eli.  
  
Eli worries his bottom lip.  
  
“Really,” Mark assures him, firmly.  
  
Eduardo looks between them, mystified. After a second Eli relaxes and nods and says, “Okay.” He returns to his cereal, chewing contentedly. His left hand rests on his thigh, partly to help steady his bowl, but mostly tapping erratically, in a rhythm. Eduardo is reminded of Eli playing piano before also Mark’s long knobby fingers typing.  
  
He glances to Mark again, only to see that Mark is already watching him. Eduardo mouths, “What?” but Mark continues staring, so intense and piercing that Eduardo feels like he’s standing under an x-ray.  
  
When Eli finishes his cereal in the weird tense silence, he sets his bowl on the table. “Thanks,” he says to Mark.  
  
Mark says sharply, “Come with me.”  
  
Eli does a doubletake. He looks at Eduardo nervously, but Eduardo shrugs.  
  
“What?” Eli says.  
  
“Come with me,” Mark repeats, turning on his heel and heading to his bedroom. “You too, Wardo,” he adds over his shoulder.  
  
Eli glances at Eduardo again. Eduardo has no idea what’s going on. He’d finished his own breakfast long ago—he’d actually been wondering if he could borrow some mouthwash or something—but Mark has already opened the door to his bedroom and seated himself at his desk with no intention to come back out. Eduardo just says, “After you,” and follows Eli into Mark’s room.  
  
Mark stands up as soon as they’re in and closes the door. Eduardo takes his usual seat at Mark’s bed, but Eli stands awkwardly in the middle of the room, glancing between the two of them and the door.  
  
“Sit,” Mark instructs, so Eduardo shifts over a little and Eli sits down, even though the bed is hardly small enough for the extra space to be necessary.  
  
Mark crosses his arms over his chest and stares between the two of them.  
  
Then he says, “Wardo, stand up.”  
  
Bemused, Eduardo does as he’s told. He watches as Mark walks over and sits where Eduardo had just been. It’s so weird to see him right next to Eli, who looks even more confused and uncomfortable probably because Mark is Mark, and Eduardo is—well, it’s more fact than flattery that Eduardo knows between himself and Mark, he’s the easier one to be around.  
  
“Eli,” Mark says, looking him straight in the eye. Eli looks _terrified_. “You’re attracted to Wardo, right?”  
  
Eli stammers, glances at Eduardo who’s sitting himself in Mark’s desk chair, then back at Mark. “I, I,” he says. “I don’t—I’m not—”  
  
“It’s okay, he’s an attractive guy,” says Mark, which are really _not_  words Eduardo ever thought he’d ever hear Mark say.  
  
Mark looks to him for help, though, so Eduardo puts in, “Yeah, don’t you think I’m attractive, Eli?” He feels less guilty about it by the way Eli stutters some more, less like he’s being bullied and more like he doesn’t want to admit something he clearly thinks.  
  
Mark puts a hand on Eli’s shoulder. That stuns Eduardo, too, because Mark _never_  initiates physical contact. “It’s okay,” Mark says assuringly. “He’s pretty into us, too.”  
  
“Mark,” Eduardo tries to cut in.  
  
Mark ignores him. “Eli,” he says, and actually _puts his hand on Eli’s chin_. Eduardo is too stunned to speak. “Hey,” Mark says. “What about me?”  
  
“W-What?” Eli barely manages to choke out.  
  
But Mark doesn’t respond, because Mark closes the gap between them, and holy hell he’s kissing Eli and what? _What?_  What is even happening right now, with Mark’s mouth on Eli’s and Eduardo has only seen Mark, like, get kisses from his mother on the forehead and never seen him kiss Erica and now Mark’s face is tilted and his hand is running down Eli’s cheek soothingly and Eduardo should really, look away, or something, but he can’t, because his stomach is so hot and the sight is magnetic, the way Eli’s eyes are open and huge and his face is frozen in shock.  
  
But then Mark runs his thumbnail down Eli’s ear and apparently that gets Eli to cave in because he closes his eyes and he’s kissing back and moving his lips and Eduardo is just sitting there and staring and heat is roiling in his belly and there is a hint of tongue somewhere and then Eli is opening his mouth and gasping as Mark places his hand on the side of Eli’s neck, kissing more, deeper. Where did Mark even learn how to kiss, but more importantly, how is this happening in front of Eduardo, why is this happening, it’s definitely the hottest thing Eduardo’s ever seen and it’s impossible, really, he must be dreaming—  
  
Mark breaks apart, a little breathless. Eli’s cheeks are flushed and his eyes are darker than before. Mark looks similar, though with more composure, because Eli is leaned back on his elbows and licking his lips like he can’t believe that just happened. Eduardo can’t, either.  
  
Mark turns to Eduardo. Eduardo shifts guiltily under his gaze. And also because his pants feel a little tight.  
  
“Wardo,” Mark says. “Do you want us to keep going?”  
  
“Keep—” Eduardo’s mouth is dry. “What?”  
  
“What?” Eli asks, too. He tries to sit up, but Mark pushes him down lightly onto his bed.  
  
Eduardo watches the interaction, big hot swoops in his stomach that he doesn’t know what to do with. “If Eli wants to,” he answers, and his voice sounds so far away because seeing Mark and Eli like—like _this_ , god, Eduardo would have needed a better imagination if someone had asked him earlier what his dream situation would be like.  
  
Mark turns to Eli then. “How about it?” he asks, as direct as ever. Eli wavers under his gaze, but Mark notices. “For Wardo, right?”  
  
“For—” Eli glances at Eduardo. Eduardo should teach him how not to be scared of Mark.  
  
Then Eli says, “Just for him?”  
  
Eduardo’s breath catches.  
  
Mark narrows his eyes, studying Eli carefully. “Or maybe not,” he says.  
  
His fingers trail down the front of Eli’s button-up, inching down the side. Eli swallows. Mark's hand experimentally finds Eli’s, threads his fingers between his. Eli responds, and unconsciously lifts himself up a little, as Mark bends his head down.  
  
They kiss and Eduardo can’t stop staring and feels like he should—he has no idea, but this kiss looks more urgent, Mark pressing Eli down onto his bed and Eli grasping at Mark’s hair, raking through wondrously like Eduardo had always dreamt of doing, except these are Eli’s fingers and even better when Mark moves his head down and kisses somewhere at the other side of Eli’s neck. Eli shudders and moans and Eduardo can see his knuckles pale and tighten.  
  
Mark mumbles something that Eduardo can’t make out, but then Eli is meeting Eduardo’s eyes and breathing out, “Yeah, he is.” Mark makes another noise and then he is sucking, filthy, at Eli’s pale jaw. Eli gasps and bucks his hips up and Eduardo is painfully hard in his pants and can’t remember the last time he blinked.  
  
Mark’s hands are between their torsos, deftly unbuttoning Eli’s shirt, kissing a trail down his chest as Eli whines and whimpers. Mark makes his way down Eli’s body with vindication, controlled as he gets Eli’s fly open, tugs his jeans down his knees. Eli had shaken his one shoe off at some point because it lies alone at the side of the bed on the floor, and Mark is mouthing at the cotton of Eli’s boxers and holy hell Eduardo has not seen anything hotter.  
  
“Oh my god,” he says, shaken.  
  
Mark glances at him. His mouth is drawn into a smirk and he presses his lips harder at Eli’s boxers again, and Eli moans. Eduardo can honestly feel his own dick pulsing under his trousers, and his head is so light because all the blood in his body is literally only in one place right now, he can’t imagine how—  
  
And then Mark is slipping Eli’s boxers down, exposing Eli’s dark pink dick. Eli gasps and shoves his wrist against his mouth and he says, sounding positively wrecked, “ _Shit_.” Mark grins down at him.  
  
“I can’t tell if we’re the same size,” he says, conversationally, looking around at Eli’s dick. He takes it in his hand and Eli thrusts up into the air, trying into Mark’s hand. Mark doesn’t falter. “Maybe you’re smaller.”  
  
“Yeah—” Eli can only communicate through chokes. “Yeah, right.”  
  
“We could measure,” says Mark. He runs his thumb over the cockhead and Eli whimpers. Eduardo can see him biting into his own skin.  
  
Mark looks at him again, where Eli’s head lies at the foot of the bed. “Have you even had a handjob before?” he asks.  
  
Eli tries to glare even though his cheeks are bright red and his neck and the top half of his chest are flushed. “Why?” he says, guarded.  
  
Mark shrugs. “No reason,” he says. His hand slips down and he cups gently at Eli’s balls, running them in his palm. Eli is panting and whining and being so _loud_  and everything else that isn’t him or Mark is white noise in Eduardo’s ears and his head is so fuzzy, he really should be worried if he’s going to pass out from the lack of blood in his head.  
  
“Blowjob?” Mark asks, because of course he’s the only fucker in this room who can still talk and think clearly.  
  
This time Eli whimpers, and Mark runs his fingers all the way down the length to the tip again, smearing the precome from the slit all over and down.  
  
“O-Once,” Eli gets out.  
  
Eduardo doesn’t know why he’s holding himself back. Mark hadn’t said he couldn’t come, but Mark continues torturing him and stroking up and down Eli’s cock. He asks, “How was it?”  
  
“It was, it was okay,” says Eli, and shudders when Mark presses his finger against the slit, adding more pressure. “Not as, um—”  
  
Mark bends down and grins up at him, mouth so close to Eli’s dick. “I know,” he says, before wrapping his lips around it.  
  
Eduardo is trembling in his chair and he’s glad he’s sitting because honestly, his thighs are numb and he really can’t feel anything except for the burning streaks of pleasure throbbing in his body like hot spots, deep below his waist and crying and trying to tear out. Mark’s mouth is so red and he pulls back after the first suck, licks his lips, leans down again and works his mouth around Eli’s cock, taking him at a steady pace and holding him by the base and working with the rhythm of Eli’s hips, unbidden and frantic and bucking into Mark’s mouth. Mark, apparently, can deep throat like a champ because Eduardo definitely sees Eli’s cock disappear entirely into his mouth for a moment and holy jesus christ Eduardo is about to come in his pants without even touching himself, without, without, anything.  
  
He expects Mark to maybe look at him once or twice, but Mark focuses on Eli, running his hands down his cock at the same time he sucks him off. Eli is whining and twisting on Mark’s bed, but he meets his eyes once—his pupils are huge with a ring of blue around them that Eduardo can barely see, and he almost definitely mouths, _Please_ , lips as bright and shiny as Mark’s.  
  
And so Eduardo barely presses the heel of his hand against his dick and he comes, ridiculously in Mark’s chair, awful and straining against the fabric of his trousers, white hot and burning down his left thigh and knee. He gasps, but lifts his head up just in time to see Eli finally shout out and Mark barely pulls back, so some of Eli’s spunk gets on his lips but he opens his mouth and leans down again, gulping him up.  
  
Eli pants on the bed, breath heaving. Eduardo watches as Mark pulls back, looking satisfied with himself—there is a visible bulge in his trousers, but Mark just gets up and walks over to Eduardo.  
  
Eduardo says, “What was that all about,” except his voice is croaky and cracks on every syllable. Mark shrugs and leans down, one hand on the armrest of the chair.  
  
He kisses Eduardo and, yeah, Mark tastes like jizz, and also has quite a bit still in his mouth, and Eduardo can’t help himself from moaning at the taste of Eli. Mark pries Eduardo’s mouth open with his own and then Eduardo can taste more, and this is all weirdly hot, and Mark’s tongue is slippery and thick and he pushes Eli’s semen into Eduardo’s mouth. Eduardo groans and bites Mark’s bottom lip, swirling the come and saliva between them. Mark’s face is so hot and there’s still some jizz at the corner of his mouth, too. Eduardo licks that up and licks it all together and he and Mark trade Eli’s jizz back and forth between their mouths, before Mark pulls away and Eduardo has the bravado to swallow it.  
  
A long line of spit draws between their lips. Mark breaks it and turns to Eli.  
  
“How was that?” he asks. Eduardo is glad to hear that Mark’s voice is a little shaky, too.  
  
Eli blinks hazily. “How was what?” he asks. “You guys kissing?”  
  
“No, the.” Mark gestures down, to where Eli’s dick is still out.  
  
Eli blushes almost immediately. “Oh,” he says. “It was, that was.” He clears his throat. “That was good.”  
  
“Better than the other blowjob you’ve had?” Mark asks.  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Eli says emphatically.  
  
Mark nods. Eduardo resists the urge to roll his eyes, because of course Mark has to be the best at everything, even when it’s giving head to his doppelganger. “Cool,” he says to Eli. “So what do you want to do?”  
  
“What do I want to—” Eli glances at Eduardo, but Eduardo stays quiet—he’s really not going to complain if Eli has other ideas for them, too. “What do I want to do?” Eli asks.  
  
“Yes,” Mark says, his patience being tested.  
  
Eli chews on his bottom lip, gaze fixed at nothing thoughtfully. “Can I, um,” he says, and looks at Eduardo. Eduardo is surprised. “Can I suck you off?” he asks.  
  
It should be too soon, but Eduardo can feel the heat that has just begun to spread back through his veins being called to his dick again. “Yeah,” he says, absently at first. And then, “Yeah, sure,” and quickly stands up, because he doubts Eli is going to want to lean over the chair to do that.  
  
Eli smiles at him, and with his hair tousled and color high up on his cheeks like that, it’s better than the ones he’s given Eduardo before. Eduardo bites his lip and grins back, and begins taking off his belt, his cock itching to spring free.  
  
Mark looks a little lost on the bed as Eli gets up, but Eli turns back around to him and says, “You can, um. You can fuck me if you want.”  
  
“I.” Mark is stunned in a new way now.  
  
Eduardo pauses, too. Eli says, “If you want, I mean, I don’t even know if you have condoms around here—”  
  
“Yeah, I do,” Mark says hurriedly, all of a sudden. He coughs a little. “Want to, I mean. And have condoms.” He bustles around a little.  
  
Eduardo snickers. “Hopeful?” he asks, as Mark goes to his desk drawer and pulls a wrapper out.  
  
Mark flicks him on the nose with it. “I told you I was ready if Erica ever wanted to have sex with me,” he says. But he notices Eli tense the same time Eduardo does, because he adds, “This is better.”  
  
Eli relaxes and Eduardo shucks down his pants, underwear going down with it. He’s already half-hard again, and Eli eyes his cock, before looking at Eduardo apologetically.  
  
“I’ve never done this before,” he confesses.  
  
Behind them, Mark snorts.  
  
“It’s okay,” Eduardo assures him. He stuffs his fingers into Eli’s hair, and Eli leans into the touch. Eduardo is smitten. “There’s a first time for everything.”  
  
“Yeah, especially when it comes to giving a blowjob _and_  getting one,” says Mark, rolling his eyes. “Get on the bed, Wardo, it’s not like we’re gonna hold him in midair with our dicks.”  
  
“We could,” Eduardo says. Mark rolls his eyes again as Eduardo goes to the head of the bed, settles his knees down. Eli gets off the bed and goes around Mark, who shifts back to the end. Eli sits in the middle and gets on his hands and knees. Eduardo can see easily that Eli is shaking a bit.  
  
“Relax,” he soothes, returning his hand into Eli’s hair. Eli does, closing his eyes against Eduardo’s palm. Eduardo runs his hand over his cheek, tucks around the top of Eli’s ear. Eli makes a small noise of approval.  
  
“I really like your hands,” Eduardo tells him. “Mark’s, too. You guys have similar fingers.”  
  
Mark scoffs from where he’s slicking his hands up with lube, which he must’ve gotten from his chest of drawers behind him. “No we don’t,” he says.  
  
“We’re both talented with them,” Eli points out. Eduardo can see him flexing his fingers against the bedspread. Eduardo reaches for his left hand and twines his fingers with Eli’s.  
  
Mark closes the lid of the bottle. “I’ll give you that,” he says. “Spread your legs a little, or this is going to hurt.”  
  
Eli obeys. Eduardo watches as Mark touches Eli’s ass with a cold wet finger, and Eli shivers, bucking forward toward Eduardo. Eduardo says, “Hey,” and smiles at him. Eli smiles back and Eduardo rubs his cheekbone with his thumb, as Mark, with full concentration, begins to open Eli up.  
  
Eli is all gasps and heady breaths, groaning and thrusting against Mark’s finger, or fingers, Eduardo can’t really tell from here. He says, “You okay?” and steadies him, runs his thumb over Eli’s lips. Eli takes his thumb in his mouth and runs it between his teeth, sucking and losing focus every once in a while as Mark fucks into him. Eduardo watches as Eli’s gaze gets hot and dark again and he meets Eduardo’s eyes as he sucks on Eduardo’s fingers and honestly, christ, Eduardo hates him and Mark and their finger fixation and oral fixation, both of which they share and torment him terribly.  
  
“Are you ready?” Mark asks. Eduardo jerks his head up to see that Mark is watching them, but more hypnotized than anything.  
  
And Eli blabbers out, “Please, please,” against Eduardo’s fingers.  
  
Mark rolls his eyes and says, “That’s a yes.” He strips the condom open.  
  
Eduardo can practically see it even though the angle is bad, the way Mark fucks into Eli slowly, dick disappearing into Eli’s ass. Eli moans and says, “Shit,” and both Mark and Eduardo ask at the same time, “Are you okay?”  
  
Eduardo glances up to catch Mark’s eye, amused; but Mark looks worried about Eli. “Yeah, yeah,” Eli gets out, and Eduardo massages at the side of Eli’s neck. He rolls Eli’s ear between his fingers and Eli moans—ah, there. “I’m, it burns a little, but it’s fine,” Eli says.  
  
“Find his prostate,” Eduardo advises Mark.  
  
Mark glares. “I know,” he says snappily, as he grabs onto Eli’s hips.  
  
Eli makes small noises as Mark begins to move into him, thrusting into him in increments and angling his hips sloppily. Eduardo rolls his eyes as he watches, but Eli stops him when he says to Eduardo, “Can I, um, can I blow you now?”  
  
“Oh—yeah,” Eduardo says. He’d nearly forgotten, even though his boner is practically in Eli’s face as Eli rocks arrhythmically on the bed.  
  
Eli cranes his neck down as Eduardo inches more toward him, and then his dick is in Eli’s mouth, around the vibrations of the moans that Eli is making in his throat. Eduardo groans and shoves his hand into Eli’s hair again, tugging a little as Eli adjusts his lips to the shape of Eduardo’s dick. His teeth scrape against him briefly and Eduardo hisses, and Eli mumbles out, “Sorry,” mouth still full.  
  
And Eduardo can feel _that_ , too, so he says, “Don’t worry about it,” as Eli adjusts his lips, flattening them onto Eduardo.  
  
Mark has his eyes closed and one hand on the small of Eli’s back, the other gripping the side of his hip. Eduardo can see the way he’s fucking him, trying to get Eli to enjoy it, to find the—  
  
Eli whimpers around Eduardo’s dick and Eduardo groans and Eli says, “Shit, fuck, holy,” as he barely slips his mouth off of Eduardo, bending forward on his elbows. Eduardo lifts his chin up as Mark stills behind them, peering over at Eli.  
  
“Did that feel good?” he asks.  
  
“Yes, yes, god,” Eli mumbles, and his eyes are shining and his eyes are even darker than before. Eduardo watches as Mark adjusts his hips before pushing into Eli again. Eli’s mouth falls open to an O shape and his eyelids get heavy and Eduardo can’t think of anything other than kissing him.  
  
Eli tastes like Eduardo’s precome and sleep and maybe Cocoa Puffs and milk, from breakfast. He kisses back eagerly, and Eduardo can feel every moment Mark pushes into him, which somehow makes this whole thing hotter. Eli rocks against his hand still holding his chin, his mouth unsteady that Eduardo has to move his own face back and forth, to keep their lips together.  
  
Mark says, too close and too far away, “Wardo, stop it. He wanted to suck you off.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Eduardo says absentmindedly, tearing his lips away. Eli doesn’t seem to mind, grunting as Mark fucks him and claws at the bedsheets.  
  
Heat is twisting in Eduardo’s gut, but more than that is the way he wants to smile when Mark rolls his eyes and gestures down to Eli. “Get to it then,” he says, looking pointedly at Eduardo’s dick.  
  
Eduardo snickers. “Who made you in charge?” he says, but takes his dick, lifting Eli’s head up with his other hand again. He asks, “This okay?” and Eli nods, so Eduardo slips his dick between Eli’s lips.  
  
Eli moans and sucks with unbalanced pressure, so Eduardo combs his fingers to the back of Eli’s head and pushes off and on, back and forth. Eli is so hot and wet and Eduardo can watch this forever—Eli’s cheeks hollow out and Eduardo shoves him in deeper, though not too much because he doubts that if this is Eli’s first time then he probably can’t deepthroat like Mark. (Though Eduardo will have to ask Mark when he learned how to do that.) Eli gives himself away entirely and Eduardo fucks his face, watching the helpless and red way Eli writhes and leans into him.  
  
And Eduardo can see Mark, too, in full focus mode, like he’s coding except not really because his hips snap faster and faster as the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room. It’s so hot, the way his face is bright and his jaw is clenched and determination is written all over his face.  
  
He lifts his gaze up to meet Eduardo’s the same time Eli chokes out around Eduardo’s cock and comes. That kind of—well Eduardo comes not long afterward, hard down Eli’s throat, tightening his grip and keeping Eli’s head steady as he swallows him down. And then it doesn’t take long until Mark lets out a breathy shudder, too, and Eli is moaning again, as Mark is still inside him and hovering, trembling all over him.  
  
Eduardo tucks his dick out from Eli’s mouth and slips off the bed, though his briefs are stained from before. He groans and glances over to Mark, who has pulled out and is now tying the condom up. He’s having some issues.  
  
Eduardo asks, “Hey Mark, can I borrow a pair of underwear?” already shuffling to the chest of drawers.  
  
“Yeah, whatever,” says Mark. His tongue sticks out as he twists the end of the condom together.  
  
Eduardo rolls his eyes and grabs for it without asking. “This would be embarrassing if this was with Erica,” he says, tying it easily and tossing it into the trashcan.  
  
Mark huffs. “Shut up,” he says. “Top drawer, on the—”  
  
“I know.” Eduardo opens Mark’s underwear drawer. He pulls a pair out and slides it on.  
  
Eli has collapsed on Mark’s bed, face down into his pillow. As Eduardo comes around, he can see that Eli’s thighs are trembling a bit.  
  
Eduardo glances at Mark, but Mark is watching Eli too, unsure. Eduardo pokes him and mouths, _Do something_. Mark shrugs helplessly.  
  
Eduardo bats the side of his head before going to the other end of the bed. “Hey Eli,” he says softly. “How are you doing?”  
  
Eli laughs weakly, lifting his head up. “Do you guys usually fuck people who look like you?” he asks, though he sounds sarcastic.  
  
Mark rolls his eyes. “You’re the only one who’s this unfortunate.”  
  
“To look like you, or to get fucked by us?” Eduardo asks.  
  
Mark shrugs.  
  
Eli laughs again. He rolls onto his back, brushing up against the wall. “I’m okay,” he says, staring at the slant of the ceiling. “Mostly naked.”  
  
Eduardo’s eyes flicker down his body. “True,” he says.  
  
“And for the record,” says Mark, “Wardo and I have never had sex before.”  
  
“I gathered.” Eli sits up and rubs at his eyes. He presses his thighs together, even though the room is still burning and reeking of sex. “This was weird. I don’t, um.” He blinks at nothing. “I didn’t think I would end up here after yesterday.”  
  
“I figured Wardo was into me,” Mark says suddenly.  
  
Eduardo shoots a glare at him. “Hey.”  
  
“And so I figured,” Mark continues, as if Eduardo hadn’t spoken, “after I saw him talk to you, that he was into you.” He shrugs. “It was natural.”  
  
“Natural.” Eli snorts.  
  
“Mark would call a spontaneous threesome natural,” Eduardo agrees.  
  
This time it’s Mark’s turn to say, “Hey.”  
  
“This is the weirdest day ever,” says Eli. “And I’ve had weird days before. And—what time is it?”  
  
Mark checks his computer’s clock. “A little after noon.”  
  
“And the day’s only half over.” Eli sighs and flops on his back on his bed. “What the fuck.”  
  
“I’m going to get something to eat,” says Eduardo. He probably should be having more of a crisis about having just had sex with his best friend and his best friend’s look alike, but there’d been some credence to Mark’s words—having had this whole thing with him and Eli is lethargic, easy and lazy, like a fantasy he hasn’t fully imagined yet. He goes to his pants, before realizing that those are dirty, too. He shuffles over to Mark’s closet without asking.  
  
Mark says thoughtfully, “I wonder if Dustin and Chris are still in.”  
  


* * *

  
  
Mark shows up at the Caribbean Night in nothing that looks like passable Caribbean Night attire. He tugs Eduardo outside, and leaves when Eduardo has to go back inside.  
  
Eli is talking to some girl in the corner. Eduardo realizes only when he gets closer that he’s speaking in Spanish. Eli spots him and smiles at the girl as Eduardo approaches.  
  
“What did Mark want?” he asks, with interest.  
  
Eduardo’s mind is still reeling, partially from the cold and alcohol, partially from the quickness of it all— _it’ll be like a final club, except we’re the president._  “He had an idea for a program,” Eduardo says.  
  
“Oh, cool,” says Eli. The girl next to him looks like she’s trying to care, but Eli is much too focused on Eduardo for either of them to care. “A program for what?”  
  
“Like a social media thing, or something.” Eduardo meets Eli’s eyes and finds that he’s kind of excited about this too. “Like a final club."  
  
Eli snickers. “Maybe he’s jealous of the Phoenix for stealing you away.”  
  
*  
  
Eli snags an audition for a concerto with the Boston Symphony Orchestra in February, Mark works on thefacebook, and Eduardo makes the Phoenix’s second cut. He comes over to the Kirkland dorm to tell them, because he’d knocked on Eli’s door and Eli hadn’t answered so Eduardo assumed that he’d be over at Mark’s.  
  
Eli doesn’t frequently lug his keyboard across the quad to Kirkland, though it had been a surprise to everyone when Mark admitted to liking to coding while Eli played, so every once in a while Eli would go through the effort to carry it back and forth. Dustin and Chris had made Mark agree to another pact in their Roommate Rules (copyrighted by Dustin, tacked to their bulletin board) that any situation involving Eduardo and Mark and Eli would be soundless, including but not limited to sex and Eli playing the keyboard. They hadn’t responded well after the first time they were involved in less than soundless activities, though Mark was the only one of the three—well five, technically—of them who _wasn’t_ embarrassed by it all.  
  
So Eli is indeed in Mark’s living room, clacking happily at his keyboard while Mark codes. Eduardo pops in and both of them lift their heads up and stop.  
  
Mark speaks before Eduardo can get a word in. “I need a dedicated Linux box running Apache with a MySQL backend, it’s gonna cost a little more money.”  
  
“He already did it,” Eli puts in, going back to tapping at his keyboard.  
  
Eduardo glances at Mark, but Mark merely shrugs before going back to his computer.  
  
Eduardo leans over Eli, watching him scribble notes onto his music. “How’s practice going?” he asks.  
  
“Good,” says Eli, slotting the back end of his pen between his teeth. “I keep stumbling over a part, but Mark won’t let me play with a metronome in here.”  
  
“It’s annoying,” says Mark without looking up. “You sound good already.”  
  
Eduardo and Eli exchange a look, and Eduardo grins. “Hey, guess what?” he says, and lifts his head up to Mark, too. “I made the second cut.”  
  
“For the Phoenix?” Eli asks, eyes wide. Eduardo nods.  
  
Mark looks over to him. “That’s good,. You should be proud of that right there,” he says Eduardo. “Don’t worry if you don’t make it any further.”  
  
He goes back to whatever he’s working on. Eli sighs, but Eduardo feels a smile tugging at his own lips anyway.  
  
“Don’t listen to him,” says Eli, smiling assuredly at him. “That’s really good, your father’s gonna be proud.”  
  
Behind them, Mark snorts.  
  
“I doubt it,” Eduardo says easily. Eli frowns, but Eduardo leans down to kiss him, melting it away. “You guys being proud is good, though.”  
  
“Mark’s not proud,” Eli murmurs against his lips.  
  
Eduardo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know.”  
  
*  
  
Winter break Eduardo heads back to Miami, while Eli and Mark go to New York, with promises between the two of them to try to meet up over the few weeks. Eduardo can’t help himself from feeling a little jealous, wishing he could stay in Boston; but it’s convenient for them so he can’t blame them, and one night he gets a call from Mark’s number and can hear the fuzzy sound of their blended voices and moans.  
  
Thefacebook goes live a week before Eli’s concerto, and even though he’s technically not part of the company, he rims Mark before making out with him while Eduardo fucks Mark from behind during that night’s celebratory sex. The convenient thing about both Eli and Eduardo having singles is that when they want to fuck, and Dustin and Chris are in, and Mark wants to bring his laptop with him too, he doesn’t have to complain about the shitty wifi from Eduardo’s dorm anymore because it’s perfectly fine in Eli’s.  
  
Eduardo doesn’t make Mark go to Eli’s concerto, but the weekend before, Mark surprises him by asking over breakfast (Dustin is trying to persuade Eli to try weird bagels in the cafeteria line) if Eduardo has a ride to it.  
  
“I was going to take the bus, actually,” says Eduardo, peppering his eggs.  
  
Mark nods. “That’s a good idea,” he says.  
  
“What—why, are you going too?”  
  
Mark gives him a look, which Eduardo honestly doesn’t get, because Mark only goes to events that interest him, and Eduardo knows for a fact that Mark can barely carry a tune.  
  
“I’ve been doing too many interviews for the Crimson,” says Mark, and stabs into his fruit salad. “I need to get off campus.”  
  
“So that’s why you’re going to Eli’s concert,” Eduardo says dryly.  
  
Mark shrugs. He picks up a pineapple and stuffs it into his mouth. “Not really,” he answers.  
  
Eduardo narrows his eyes. But he says, “Yeah, okay.”  
  
So the next week they go to Eli’s concerto together and sit next to each other and watch as he and the other players perform. Eduardo expects Mark to doze off or play on his phone or something, but Mark sits perfectly still with his chin tipped out like he does when he’s really into something, blocking the rest of the world out and going into tunnel vision. Even when Eli’s not performing he pays attention, and Eduardo is honestly baffled at this reaction.  
  
Afterward, they meet with Eli backstage, who nearly shits his pants when he sees them. “You guys are here!” he says, as if Eduardo hadn’t been saying for weeks how eager he was to hear him.  
  
“We are,” says Mark.  
  
“You were incredible,” says Eduardo. He beams, warm pride in his chest.  
  
Eli shuffles on his feet, but then says, “Yeah, I was, wasn’t I?”  
  
“Get famous,” Mark tells him. “You can do it.”  
  
Eli ducks his head down, blushing and scratching his head. “Says the one who made a website that got a thousand members in a week,” he says bashfully.  
  
Mark rolls his eyes and punches Eli’s shoulder. “And who just played for a thousand member audience?”  
  
“Okay,” says Eli, and nods. Mark looks satisfied. “I will.”  
  
“Stop rubbing off on him, Mark,” Eduardo complains.  
  
*  
  
They all attend a Bill Gates lecture the week after that, and a few girls in the row behind them ask if Eli is Mark, and Eduardo says no, and the girl looks confused but talks to him about thefacebook and Eduardo agrees it’s awesome. Afterward he tells Mark and Eli about the girl who asked him to _facebook her_  and even Mark is grinning while Eli jumps up and down in the bristling cold and says that Mark is bigger on campus than Natalie Portman.  
  
Over spring break Eli has a gig booked to play as a guest pianist with the _Philharmonic_ in New York City. Incidentally Eduardo manages to find some venture capitalists for thefacebook there and sets up meetings over spring break, so the three of them travel together, for Eli’s concert and for advertisements for thefacebook.  
  
“I told you, Wardo, we don’t need them,” Mark gripes on the cab ride to a meeting. Eli is asleep in the hotel still; he always goes out like a light and wakes up last in the mornings.  
  
“You want to make money off the thing, right?” says Eduardo wearily.  
  
“Yeah, but that’s not the _point_. It’ll crash and burn now, we have to wait for the right time.”  
  
Eduardo sighs. He and Mark try not to argue too much about thefacebook around Eli, because Eli’s not a part of it and more than once it ended with him shouting at the both of them to shut up and leaving whatever room they were in. Both Eduardo and Mark like it less when Eli leaves because he’s angry at them.  
  
With Mark alone Eduardo says, “If you don’t remember, my whole position in the company is to—”  
  
“Yeah, Wardo, but it’s not the right _time_ ,” Mark says emphatically. “Seriously, we’re wasting our time right now.”  
  
None of their meetings in New York go well, but Eduardo keeps it to himself because Eli is happy to see them when they get back, and Mark tells him that the meetings went fine, so Eduardo just goes with it. They go to Eli’s concert in Central Park and sit next to each other again and listen and watch as Eli plays with the orchestra.  
  
Eduardo really likes being with Eli and Mark, even though it’s definitely the most unconventional relationship he’s ever had. There’s also the fact that they look like each other, though at this point Eduardo can spot the differences more obviously that sometimes he forgets. Mark is meticulous about his hair and it almost always looks the same that Eduardo suspects he gets it cut when it’s a millimeter too long for him. Meanwhile Eduardo has watched Eli grow his hair out until he was dangling above his eyes and Eduardo had pointed it out and Eli went, “Huh. Maybe I should get my hair cut.”  
  
There are more things, too, like Eli’s ease and asking Eduardo for help with his Calculus homework, while Mark sits at his desk and stares at his computer screen for so long that Eduardo has gone a day in Mark’s room not speaking to him at all and doing his own thing. Eli plays piano, then and now, in the park, and it makes the air between Eduardo and Mark feel smoother. Eduardo glances at Mark once and Mark glances back and it sort of says, _can you believe we’re lucky with this guy?_  and _yeah, we are_.  
  
The sex, obviously, is phenomenal—and the thing with having both Eli and Mark is that they can try so many different things and in different combinations. They are all happy and sated before their meeting with Sean Parker a few evenings later, Eli riding on the high of the success of his concerto, and Eduardo and Mark working through thefacebook but not impervious to Eli’s good mood.  
  
Eli accompanies them, because, “Holy shit, _Sean Parker_?” Mark had nodded with equal enthusiasm, but Eduardo had said, “He’s not that great, really.”  
  
“Wardo is a killjoy,” Mark says to Eli practically.  
  
Eli snickers. Eduardo says, “I am not. If you did your research, you would see what a,” he looks for the right word.  
  
“Did he murder someone?” Eli asks.  
  
“He murdered his own career,” says Eduardo. “He crashed out of two companies in spectacular fashion, he’s had a reputation with drugs—”  
  
“Drugs _are_  bad,” Eli agrees.  
  
“He also founded the companies,” Mark says pointedly.  
  
“Does it matter?” says Eduardo. “What does he have to offer?”  
  
Mark shrugs. “Experience?"  
  
“We _don’t need him_ ,” Eduardo insists.  
  
But they go to the meeting anyway, because Mark had set it up and Eli is still excited and Eduardo doesn’t want to be rude. Sean Parker is nearly thirty minutes late that even Eli is complaining, but Mark tells them to shut up as soon as he comes.  
  
Eduardo stands up when Sean Parker shakes his hand, says, “How do you do,” as Eli and Mark stand up, too. Eli seems eager to meet him, but his face falls a little when Sean says, “You must be Eli,” to him, and identifies Mark correctly.  
  
Sean chuckles at the expression on Eli’s face. “Don’t worry kid, I can tell a computer nerd from a regular nerd right away,” he says.  
  
“He’s not a regular nerd,” says Mark. “He’s a music nerd.”  
  
Sean smiles toothily. “My mistake,” he says.  
  
Their dinner meeting is… annoying, to put it lightly. Sean regales them with bullshit stories about Palo Alto and Stanford and whatever, and Mark seems enraptured as Eli pitches in every once in a while with senseless questions. Eduardo can tell that Sean wants to talk uninterrupted as his expression gets snappier and snappier whenever Eli talks, but Eli seems to detect that, too, because after one particular story about Silicon Valley where Sean says, no, Stanford isn’t all underage girls because it’s a graduate school too, Eli settles next to Eduardo and shuts up.  
  
Sean doesn’t offer anything helpful except for at the end when he says that _facebook_  is cleaner than thefacebook. On the cab ride home, Mark asks, “So what do you think?”  
  
Eli is sitting between them. Eduardo can feel the nervous jitters of his leg, and rests his hand on Eli’s knee.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” he says, blankly. “Let’s drop the ‘the.’”  
  
Mark huffs. “I meant to catching the marlin instead of the fourteen trout. Doesn’t that sound good?”  
  
Eli speaks before Eduardo has to. “If you’re a trout,” he says, to Mark. “And, I don’t know. He’s kind of, um. Over the top.”  
  
“He is,” Eduardo agrees, staring out the window.  
  
“He has _experience_ ,” says Mark. “He lives in  _Palo Alto_.”  
  
Eli asks, nervously, “Are you thinking about moving out there, too?”  
  
Eduardo turns from the window this time. Under the dim yellow lighting he sees Mark studying Eli, silently.  
  
“Why?” Mark asks.  
  
Eli shrugs. “I don’t know, just. If you and Eduardo leave.” He glances at Eduardo nervously. “I mean, I can’t go, obviously, I have to stay here for my scholarship and all, and I’m not even part of thefacebook.”  
  
“Facebook,” Mark corrects.  
  
“Whatever.” Eli shrugs again.  
  
Mark meets Eduardo’s eyes. Eduardo can tell what he’s thinking—he’s having an internal debate, picking between Eli and facebook. Eduardo knows that Mark is really attached to facebook—more than any other project he’s had before, because this one has promise—but Eli is. Well, Eli is important to the both of them.  
  
Eduardo says, “Don’t worry, Eli, I’m not really planning on moving to Palo Alto.”  
  
Eli smiles over at him.  
  
Mark stares at the two of them. “I’ll think about it,” he mutters.  
  
*  
  
Eduardo gets into the Phoenix, though Eli is bent double over with laughter and Mark presses snickers into his palm every once in a while when he brings the chicken cage over to Kirkland.  
  
“Stop laughing,” Eduardo says, pouting.  
  
Mark doesn’t listen to him. Eli attempts to, but he says, “It’s, it’s kind of funny,” through his badly disguised giggles.  
  
Eduardo rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, it is,” he says.  
  
Eli laughs even harder when the story about Eduardo performing forced cannibalism on the chicken makes it into the Crimson, bent over his keyboard as Mark reads from his desk. “This is scathing,” says Mark, shaking his head.  
  
“Oh god,” Eli wheezes out. “If Facebook gets taken down for being associated with forced cannibalism—”  
  
“Someone from the Porc or the Fly must’ve reported it,” Eduardo says helplessly. “For all I know, it was the Winklevosses!” The Winklevoss twins had been sending Mark cease and desist letters since February, but Mark had gone to student legal and Eli was surprisingly lawfully eloquent and pointed out that Mark had talked about creating a centralized face book before the Winklevoss twins even brought up their dating site or whatever. It’s mostly a non-issue, though the Winklevosses had once chased Eli around the quad, thinking that he was Mark. Eli had come in breathless and panicky, and Mark hacked the Porc’s website and changed everyone’s profile picture to a farm animal.  
  
Eli says, “I really hope it’s the Winklevosses. At least one of their pictures is still a chicken.”  
  
“He probably doesn’t know how to change it,” Mark snickers.  
  
Eduardo says, “You guys are useless,” and flops on his back on Mark’s bed.  
  
As he stares at the ceiling, he hears Mark snap his fingers and say, “Oh yeah, I’m going to need a little bit more money.”  
  
Eduardo sits up, nodding. “I agree. More servers, more help.”  
  
“I’m gonna rent out a space somewhere in the city for the summer,” says Mark. “I already found a building, it’s perfect.”  
  
Eduardo blinks. “Building for what?” He can tell that Eli has tuned out of their conversation, tapping on his keyboard, the volume turned down low.  
  
“Facebook,” says Mark. “And I’m interviewing interns tomorrow, we gotta pay them with something.”  
  
“You’re staying here for the summer?” Eduardo repeats.  
  
Mark shrugs. “You’re welcome to, too,” he says. “I already invited Eli, but he said he has to go home and spend time with his family.”  
  
Eduardo glances at Eli, who lifts his head up, wearing a crooked smile. “Mom’s getting out of rehab,” he says.  
  
Eduardo blinks, then claps Eli on the back. “Congratulations, man.”  
  
“Congratulations,” Mark says, too. “So are you coming, Wardo?”  
  
“I,” says Eduardo. He thinks it over. “The facebook offices. Here. In Boston?”  
  
Mark nods.  
  
“Yeah,” Eduardo says. He feels his face stretching into a smile. “I’ll be here.”  
  
*  
  
Eli visits in the middle of July, driving up his mom and sister too. He introduces Eduardo and Mark to them, and Eli’s mom is really a character, pinching Eduardo’s cheek and looking at Mark from all angles (and even lifting up his shirt!), awed at his similarities to Eli.  
  
“You sure he’s not a kid I popped out and forgot about?” she asks Eli.  
  
Eli sighs, “No, Mom,” and Mark says, “Ma’am, I have very vivid childhood memories. I can promise you I’m not your long-lost son.”  
  
Eli’s mom sighs. “It’d be nice to have a billionaire for a son,” she says. But she hugs Eli anyway and Eli smiles, so it’s obvious she’s teasing.  
  
They go out for lunch and it’s appropriately awkward, though at least Eli’s little sister, Nicole, dispels most of it by coloring on the placemat and demanding for their opinions and help with the crossword. Afterward, Eli’s mother and Nicole go back to the hotel, and Eli looks like he’s about to join them when Mark says, “Come check out our place.”  
  
“Mark,” says Eduardo, embarrassed.  
  
Eli’s mom cackles and points between all of them. “You guys gonna have welcome back sex?” she says.  
  
“ _Mom_ , oh my god.” Eli shoves his hands over his sister’s ears.  
  
Mark stares at Eli’s mom. “Yeah, probably,” he says shrugging.  
  
Mortified, Eduardo buries his face in his hands.  
  
(But the welcome back sex is great, mostly because a queen sized bed makes it easier for threesomes than tiny twin ones in the Harvard dorms.)  
  
*  
  
Facebook steadily crawls over the world and climbs to a million members, shortly before the one year anniversary. Mark had finally relented into advertisements and Eduardo managed to get VCs in New York and some even in Palo Alto, through his father’s connections and setting up meetings. They get angel investment of half a million dollars when Eduardo and Mark fly out to meet with Peter Thiel.  
  
Eli and Eduardo stay in Harvard, and Eli moves into Mark and Eduardo’s summer apartment, which soon became full-time. Eduardo is thinking of getting a slightly bigger place for the three of them.  
  
The millionth member party takes place in the facebook offices, and Eduardo is drunk on champagne and happy, standing between Mark (who is arguing with an intern about Python or whatever) and Eli (who is actually not standing, but playing at the grand piano Mark had invested in, claiming it was for decoration and both Eduardo and Eli knowing it was for Eli.) Eduardo beams and claps when Eli is done with his song. Eli is probably drunker than him, and grinning even bigger.  
  
“We should pay you,” Mark says suddenly, breaking off his argument and turning to Eli.  
  
Eli turns pink. “You really don’t have to,” he says. He’s visited the facebook offices enough that people have started calling him Mark 2.0, to Dustin’s glee. They’ve begun to tell them apart, though.  
  
“We could give him half your shares,” Eduardo teases.  
  
“God,” Eli says desperately. “Please, don’t.”  
  
“And another piano,” Mark decides. “For our apartment.”  
  
Eduardo gestures with his champagne flute. “And put him on the masthead.”  
  
“And put him on the masthead, yes.”  
  
“Stop it,” says Eli, standing up. “I’m getting another drink. I can’t handle either of you.”  
  
“Can’t _Handel_!” calls by a passing Dustin.  
  
Mark throws his mini sandwich at Dustin’s head.  
  
“Oh come on,” says Eduardo, grabbing Eli by his waist and tugging him close. Mark doesn’t complain, though Eduardo can tell he’s watching them from the corner of his eye. “Does that mean we shouldn’t come to your recital tonight?”  
  
“That’s what this party is really for, anyway,” Mark says by their side.  
  
Eli glances between them, Mark nibbling away at another mini sandwich and Eduardo’s hand warm on his hip.  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Eli says, smiling. “I guess I wouldn’t mind.”  
  
Eduardo chuckles and brushes the hair from the front of Eli's face. Mark is snickering and watching them; he and Eli are so goddamn _different_. Eduardo can't help smiling to himself.  
  
None of them could be luckier.


End file.
